Masks of a Different Color
by PalladiumPoison
Summary: Chapter One: "...I have no need to even draw my gun, for the rats have already set upon him. He screams and hacks at them, but their numbers have grown to be so many. He is nothing but bones before long, and the rats return to me heavy and sated. Why they no longer thirst for me is a mystery, but they keep their distance." Rated T-M


_The rats. _

They trail me like vultures, following the trail of blood from my blade from victim to victim. Their ceaseless squealing and scratching follow me like a restless shadow, and I've begun to forget that I practically carry the Plague behind me. I've come to forget quite a few things. Prowling through familiar halls and rooms now feels as if I'm intruding on a stranger's memories.

I had not danced with an Empress in this forgotten ballroom in this condemned section of Dunwall. I hadn't tentatively rested a hand on her side and brushed off the resounding whispers and comments at our closeness. I had never hidden behind those curtains while a young Empress-to-be searched for me, knowing exactly where I was but wanting to prolong the game.

"_Well, I guess he's invisible now. I'll have to tell mother I've gone and turned her favorite bodyguard invisible." _I definitely hadn't sprung out from behind the curtains and grabbed her around her petite waist, lifting her high off the ground with a false growl.

"_I'm her __**only **__bodyguard, young lady." _Those weren't my words. My words could never have been so sickeningly sentimental and kind.

These memories weren't mine, and those curtains were gone now. This ballroom was nothing more than a bank of weaponry and ammo, now. Empty bottles of ale and grime replaced delicate wine glasses and grandeur. Stacks of crates stood where the primly dressed guests had once mingled, the ever present rats already clambering inside to investigate their contents. I felt a small, twisted smile reach my lips behind the morbid mask as the memory and reality slurred into one and those curious rats were tearing into the guests as they went on bragging about their posh lives.

Blood stained her designer gown now, but she didn't care.

"_Flesh eating rats are the latest fashion, my dear, didn't you know?_" My frame shook with a suppressed chuckle before I was dragged back into reality. The smile turned to a grimace as I realized just exactly what I was imagining.

_What is __**wrong **__with me? _

**What isn't? **

_Get out of my head. _

**Stop being so entertaining, then. **

I growled audibly as I stalked through the maze of crates, the rats noticing their food source was leaving and they streamed back from the crates to squirm along behind me. The Outsider was such a voyeur, and I could feel when he'd decided to turn his attention particularly on me. He created a weightiness in my skull, and when he spoke to me in his lilting tones I felt each syllable throb behind my eyes. The more he spoke to me, the less like a warrior and more like an entertainer I felt. Every visit in person he gave me was teasing and questioning. Like he _expected _me to make the wrong choice, simply for his amusement.

In the end I think I had. Every decision I'd made ended in blood. It stained my hands and my clothes; it burrowed in my pours and crusted in my hair. And he was just so thrilled to see it. In my dreams, he would come to me. He walks alongside me in the Void and just _watches. _Just _watches _like he's seeing everything I keep hidden in the recess of my skull. He could. I know he could. All my thoughts were his plaything, and he was always amused.

"_You wonder about her._"

I know who he's referring to, yet I grunt as if I needed further explanation. He only chuckles at my attempt to hide the crack in my armor. The Empress.

"_You wonder if she exists in the Void, as so many things do. If she exists…elsewhere._" The Heart is in its harness around my waist, silent in the absence of a Rune or Bone Charm. I rest a hand on the spongy flesh protectively.

"_An entertaining notion. You always were an intuitive one." _Granny Rags voice rings in my head with alarming clarity.

"…_her soul is trapped. Misused._"

"You!" I'm ripped from that memory of a dream in the Void by the gruff voice of one of the City Watch, sword drawn and lumbering toward me already. I have no need to even draw my gun, for the rats have already set upon him. He screams and hacks at them, but their numbers have grown to be so many. He is nothing but bones before long, and the rats return to me heavy and sated.

Why they no longer thirst for me is a mystery, but they keep their distance.

**You scare them. **

_Then why do they follow me? _

**You provide food. **

_Shut up. _

He doesn't leave at my curt words, instead settling comfortably in the back of my pounding skull. I wind my way through the maze of halls connected to the ballroom, no real goal or target in mind but I need to do something to distract my mind which has gotten worryingly loud as my voice has gotten frighteningly quiet. I hardly speak at all anymore. No need to. The Heart has no ears but she is my only friend. Speaking to her is useless, so instead I just listen.

She sounds so much like Jessamine. Hearing her small voice speak calms me in a way I can't explain, and when I close my eyes and just _listen _I can almost feel those delicate yet sure fingers on my jaw.

"_Corvo, keep quiet." _

Again, these memories feel too distant to be mine. Too sugary and bright to ever belong to the same mind.

"_You're louder than I am, M'lady." _

But she feels so _real. _I can smell her particular scent—a mix of rosewater from her bath and a naturally attractive feminine scent akin to earth and _life_.

"_Do not think yourself a church mouse, Love." _

I've stopped moving now, a memory of a memory being just as potent as the real thing. I feel The Heart shudder under my hand.

"_I think myself akin to nothing relating to a church." _

The next sequence of memories are a blur of bodies and passion, and no matter how deeply I dig into the past I can never recall the exact details of those nights with the Empress. I fear those memories are gone forever, along with the man that created them.

-x-

"It's cold." I hear Jessamine's voice chirp quietly, as if she's afraid to disturb me. I grunt quietly, still nearly entirely asleep as I paw at the mattress for her. Can't have her being cold. Where are her blankets? She always keeps so many blankets in her bed.

My hand connects with a lukewarm ball of muscle, and I give it a gentle squeeze to feel the organ flex beneath my fingers before reforming to its original shape when I relieve the pressure. I squint my eyes open in the harsh light of day, seeing The Heart lying on the floor beside the mattress.

"Why am I so cold?" I feel an ache in my own heart at her tone. Jessamine's voice should never sound so broken and horribly sad. So I scoop her up gently and hold her back in her rightful position against my chest, my own heart being close to the still one.

"Thank you." I clutched The Heart tightly, feeling my eyes itch. Allergies. Tears _couldn't _come from these eyes. Not anymore. And especially not for a piece of flesh that probably wasn't even truly sentient. It was most likely another trick by The Outsider. Damn man—if he even was a man. By the Alter, I hated magic.

I sat up sorely, grunting and letting out a sigh as I tried to stretch the tight knots out of my muscles. Sleeping on a rotting mattress didn't quite make for a restful and comfortable slumber. The decaying apartment I'd made into my home was decent enough, I suppose. I had no personal belongings to fill it with, so most of it stayed untouched. A family that wasn't my own had their pictures on the walls still, and stains from blood that I had not spilled still lie crusted on the floor in one of the tiny rooms.

But it was close to the palace, and that was all I needed.

Dunwall Tower stood in the distance, a powerful and dark silhouette on the near horizon. It was intimidating and well-guarded with its search towers and spiked columns of fencing. All of it screamed safety to the few remaining citizens of Dunwall—no Weepers could ever dream about even approaching those walls—but he knew what it must be like to the young Empress encased inside.

She was such a free spirit. Such a wild soul who only longed to _run_. Those towering walls must feel like a prison to her. She must be so lonely in there. None of those guards would know what stories she liked best on which nights, which shells made the best colors for her to draw with, which nightgowns she liked the best, or how to hold her when she was afraid.

My sinuses ached and the itch of my eyes was unbearable. No denying it now, those were tears. _Damn it. _My heart ached for her, like forcing myself to be away from my charge had physically torn the last bit of my heart that had survived Jessamine's assassination out of my chest. No, my heart didn't hurt, the hole in my chest did.

She'd wanted me to stay with her so badly, and I'd tried so hard to fulfill her wish but there just was no way. All the blood of Dunwall had fallen from my blade, even if I had not assassinated the Empress and they believed me, I would still be responsible for the hundreds of deaths I'd caused. Being a Royal Protector was out of the question.

My life was effectively ruined, and even with Daud's body rotting in the festering waters of the Flooded District, I felt a burning need to exact my revenge. But there was no one to exact my revenge on. Havelock, Harim, Daud, Campbell, Pendleton, Martin—all of them had fallen on my sword and met their ends. Who was left?

**Perhaps your revenge didn't give you everything you hoped it would. **

His voice was like thunder rolling in my skull. Something inside of me cracked and I fell to my knees, curling around The Heart like it was all that held me to this Earth. Maybe I should just let go.

"What do you want?" I choked out, for a rare moment allowing all the injustice, fear, hatred, and _pain _to boil out of me.

**I don't want anything. **

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I did everything I was told! I did everything right!" And still my world had fallen apart. I'd never felt so hopeless, even in that shithole of a country that I'd grown up in, and I knew why. I'd had everything I could have ever wanted, and it was all taken away from me. Twice. I couldn't handle this anymore. It was too much.

**I thought you were stronger than this, Corvo. And smarter. **

I shake my head violently in disagreement.

"I'm so tired." Is all I can say in response. I get nothing back from The Outsider, but I can feel him watching me. He's not in my head anymore, the weight is gone, but I can't look up to meet his gaze; can't bear it.

"Corvo." I stay curled in my tight ball.

"_Corvo._ Look at me. Now." I clench my jaw tightly, bracing my hands on the floor to push myself up. The mark on the back of my hand glows in his presence, and I glare down at it bitterly. I didn't want this. Any of this. _I'm not his damn puppet. _

"_What._" I hiss, turning to him with a furious gaze. He is unmoved.

"You anger."

"No _shit!_"

"This was not my intention, Corvo. I did not intend to make you feel burdened. My intention was to make you feel powerful, to grant you the strength you needed to accomplish the goals you had set for yourself, which, in the beginning had been noble." I was shaking with fury at this point and my fingers itched to go to my pistol on an instinct response to boiling rage. I needed to kill something.

"But look at you now. What are you, Corvo? A man? A monster with a penchant for the trigger?" He was gone, and suddenly his voice was everywhere, "_A murderer? _Do you think Emily would feel safe with you now? Do you think she hasn't seen what you've become?" My hands were tightly clamped over my ears, The Heart beating wildly at my feet as I tried in vain to block out his voice. But it was everywhere. It was in the walls and inside my head and in my bones.

**You are not a monster. Do not wear the mask of one. Only then will you reclaim your life. **

The Heart was still now, and I crumbled onto the sodden floor.

-x-

I wondered if this was what the Plague was like.

After my conversation with The Outsider, I simply felt _dead. _Everything inside me had blown away in the storm and I was now as abandoned as these condemned buildings. The pain had gone with it, but without the sting there was a hollow feeling that was nearly as unbearable. It was only when Piero had found me wandering that I'd paused in my aimless self-loathing. He was with Anton, as per the norm since their time together trapped in Piero's workshop back at Hound Pits, and they'd both looked at me strangely.

"Corvo? Corvo, by the Alter, look at you. Are you well?" Piero was already reaching out to me before Anton whacked his hands away.

"Are you daft, man? He's probably come down with the Plague. Hand me your blade." I welcomed a knife in the neck, and tilted my head to the side to allow better access to my jugular.

"He's not sick, Anton. You're a little too trigger happy for your own benefit."

"A knife doesn't have a trigger."

"I'm _aware_." I grunted, impatient for my well-deserved death. A decapitation was a little too tame for the monster I was, though, "He's not sick, see? He's suicidal. Corvo, come on." His spindly hand was on my arm, and I knew he couldn't force me to go anywhere I didn't want to go with the difference in our sizes. Luckily for him, I didn't care either way anymore.

We were suddenly on a boat. I don't remember being dragged onto one, but I didn't really mind. The slosh of waves against the boat was a welcomed change from the groan and cries of Weepers in the dark. It did remind me of Samuel, though, and the reminder caused a distant pang that might've been pain once. He was a good man; too good to have been involved with me.

They were speaking to me, I guess. Their mouths were moving, and they looked back at me every once in a while, but I couldn't bother myself to tune in to their conversation. I simply closed my eyes and rocked my body in time with the push of the waves on the small boat. Hands were suddenly on my shoulders, shaking me violently and causing me to startle from whatever space between sleep and consciousness I'd been in. For a long few moments I hadn't registered whose face was in front of me and I already had the edge of my blade pressed into their throat, as was my standard reaction to being startled.

"C-Corvo!" Anton gasped out from behind the blade and I snorted, lowering the blade, collapsing it and tucking it back into its holster. The thought of killing him brought me no joy, conversely, the thought of seeing his blood spill over my knife made my stomach turn and I had the urge to empty my stomach onto the sandy shore we were approaching.

"It's better not to startle him." Piero murmured at Anton's look of shock, "He's like a stray dog. Approach cautiously." I simply sighed in agreement to his statement, looking to the familiar shore.

"A mangy stray at that. You stink to the Void, boy." I tried to recall the last time I'd taken a proper bath. The exact date escaped me, but I knew it was far too long ago, "What _is_ the matter with him? Is he always like this?" Both of their eyes bore into mine, but all I could do in response was stare back, my muddy green eyes dull with the emptiness in my skull.

"I don't know." Piero responded, his voice soft as the boat connected with the dense, wet sand, "He never did speak much. I don't really know him well." Just the way I liked it. People knowing too much about me wasn't preferred. It gave others too much leverage. It did also cause me to have very few friends or allies, which was a fair trade off.

"Is he…all there in the mind?" There was silence as the three of them climbed off the boat.

"He captured you, didn't he?"

"That means nothing."

"So you mean to say any simpleton can abduct you?" Anton let out an indignant huff, and I stalked past them with a growl. I had no time for their petty squabbles. They were practically wed with how often they bickered. I wasn't sure where I was headed, but I figured Piero would want me in his workshop. I was correct.

"As you may have guessed, Corvo, we were looking for you. We would never have gone into such a place if we didn't have a need for you." I settled in one of the dusty chairs in the workshop, crossing my arms as I waited for Piero to continue. I had apparently been born to serve, and who was I to deny that, "We need you to do something…familiar to you. Something we're sure you've done before, and done well." My brow furrowed as he takes my mask from its clasp on my side.

"We need you to be someone else."

-x-

A/N: Take note: This story takes place after a game completed on **High Chaos. **It's also taken place given the fact that Corvo killed all of his targets, rather than sparing or neutralizing any of them_. Also,_ it goes off of the idea that he did not reveal himself to Harim in the Tower. If any of the following themes bother you, I'd suggest running from this story.

…Suicide/Mentions of Suicide

…Depression

…Murder

…Self-harm

…Child Abuse

…Sexy Times

Thanks! Please review and tell me what you think! (Please no "New chapter now!" I plan to post a new chapter either way. If you'll leave a review, I'd really like it to be focused on what I can do to improve the story! Thank you!) ~QueenSkellington


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